


Smallville's Got More Aliens Than Area 51

by yellowrooster



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Superboy (Comics), Young Justice (Comics), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Blanket Permission, Blanket Permission Statement On Profile, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Getting Together, High School, Identity Porn, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paranormal Investigators, Slight Title Change, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:34:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24102952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowrooster/pseuds/yellowrooster
Summary: "Okay, what about aliens?" Kon asked.Tim gave him a look. "What about aliens?""Do you think they're real? Crop circles, abduction, probing, Area 51, the whole shebang?""Mr. Gunderson actually had a crop circle, Conner!""Ma said he just wanted more visitors for this year's Halloween maze."-In which Tim and Kon are Smallville's resident paranormal investigators. Yes, Kon is still an alien. No, Tim has no idea.
Relationships: Clark Kent & Kon-El | Conner Kent, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent
Comments: 94
Kudos: 206
Collections: Fic Journal of the Plague Year





	1. Chapter 1

When Kon had moved to Smallville, he hadn’t really been expecting to make any friends. Middle-of-nowhere, farmland Kansas had nothing on shining Hawaii beaches. And, worst of all, Clark had grown up here (and actually enjoyed coming back here), and Kon was not yet sure if that had any merit or if it was just another Thing That Made Clark Weird. Kon had a list. 

It had also taken a while for Kon to get to know the kids here. 

That was because they were boring. 

They cared about things like high school football and who had the coolest dusty old car in the school parking lot. And sex, but Kon kind of got where they were coming from there. 

Kon had really not been prepared for the amount of people having sex on school property when he agreed to attend school. It disturbed him the number of times he had to sit still in Pre-Calc and not make faces when he could hear the band kids going at it in the tuba closet or a jock and head cheerleader moaning in the dumpster outside. 

Also, why the fuck would they choose that dumpster as the best spot to do it? Sure, nobody went there so no one would bother them, but also---nobody went there for a reason. 

And Kon missed the Titans---talking, laughing, going on missions---and doing things that actually mattered. Because, no matter what Ms. Doberspan said, there was no way reading The Catcher In The Rye and writing an essay on the significance of the ducks as a symbol throughout the book was going to help him catch supervillains. Because, yes, that was his plan for the rest of his life. 

Full-time superhero. 

Kon couldn’t really imagine doing anything else, which is why when his English class got called down to the computer lab so the school’s guidance counselors could make them all set up a college application plan at once, he felt pretty stumped at what to put down. 

It wasn’t like everyone at Smallville High was just itching to go to college; they were pretty firmly divided into two groups: people who had to get out of this place and people who were resigned to stay. 

Kon looked at the beige-grey walls of the computer lab and the grey-blond complexion of most of the students. Being here was like radio static. Nothing but senseless and useless noise. He couldn’t imagine staying. 

What would he even do if he stayed? He’d obviously help Ma and Pa around the farm---organic farming was not as boring as he’d thought---but with superspeed he could get the chores done before the sun even rose. 

The county fair was decent---Ma always got super excited and made a bunch of pies and Kon had had a few decent dates last time---got a few kisses winning those dart games for bear plushies, too. 

The Halloween corn maze would be fun if he could turn off his super hearing and X-ray vision, actually, if he didn’t have any powers at all, and had been a pretty decent date location, actually. 

So, that could be October. 

Like, one October. 

Kon would never last in Smallville.

Kon leaned over to look at the screen of the boy next to him. “Gotham U, huh?”

“Yeah, so what?” Tim said, looking up defensively. “I’m from Gotham.”

Tim was one of the few kids at Smallville High he could have a conversation with without gouging his eyes out. Kon was pretty sure that was because Tim wasn’t actually from Smallville. 

And because he was really smart. “Yale, Metropolis U, Harvard---woah, these are really good schools, Tim,” said Ms. Applebaum, who had somehow materialized behind them the moment they started talking. “Why don’t you make a list of some safety schools---the community college, maybe?”

That was another thing, Kon thought. The people here are really weird about anyone who thinks about leaving, especially if they don’t have family here to reel them back in by the time they get married. Smallville was the kind of place where everyone married the high school sweetheart, got a community college degree, and settled into the same jobs as their parents.

(Kon could see perhaps how this judgemental comment could be seen as hypocritical as he was also planning to follow in the caped footsteps of his own “parent”’s career, but he was also a literal clone, just to throw that out there.)

“No thanks,” Tim said. “I miss living in a city. Plus, it’s not exactly a big issue for me if I don’t get accepted.”

Oh, Tim was going to get accepted. Kon had no doubt about that. But he was also right. If he didn’t get into college, he could get an internship or take a gap year or start at his dad’s company. Tim, unlike the majority of kids at Smallville, was filthy fucking rich. 

“Are you sure you want to go back to Gotham, dear?” Ms. Applebaum asked, peering down at him condescendingly. “I see you’ve put that as your first choice. I just think it’s such a shame. You’re such a bright boy, Tim, and Gotham is really very dangerous---”

“I know,” Tim said. “Seeing as I lived there.”

“---so dark and dreary. And all those crazies. I just can’t imagine why you’d want to go back,” Ms. Applebaum said, pursing her lips. She shook her head and moved on, passing over Kon, who was grateful since he hadn’t put a single school down on his list. 

“You really hate Smallville, don’t you?” asked a girl who whirled around in her chair to face Tim. Kon recognized her as one of the girls he’d kissed at the county fair last year. Stacy or something? “I can’t believe anyone would want to go back to a city where the Joker breaks out every other week when they could live here.” She spread her arms out, palms up. 

Then Tim said something that kind of startled Kon. 

“I don’t hate Smallville,” Tim said. 

Kon could not relate. “Really?” he asked, leaning forward. “Why?”

“Name one thing you like about it,” Stacy (?) challenged. 

“You’ve been the most miserable person since you moved here,” another girl added. 

“Maybe that’s just his personality.”

“Yeah,” said Kon, incredulous. “I thought you wanted to get out of this place as much as I do.”

“I want to get out of here,” Tim agreed. “But I don’t hate it here.”

“That’s such a boring answer,” Stacy argued. “Is there anything you actually like? And don’t say the county fair, that isn’t exclusive to Smallville. What does Smallville have that’s better than Gotham?”

“Okay,” Tim said, looking down for a moment. “Honestly, Smallville has so many haunted locations and just overall weirdness---Gotham doesn’t hold a candle to it!”

What? Kon thought. 

“Are you serious?” Stacy laughed. “Gotham has a villain who throws question marks at people and you think Smallville is weird?”

“Okay, fair. The Riddler is weird.” Kon noticed that Tim was beginning to get heated, leaning forward in his chair and gesticulating wildly. “But the number of ghost sightings in Smallville alone---”

“Ghosts?” Kon asked, lost. “But aren’t you in AP Chem and like every other AP science class in our school?”

“Yes,” said Tim with affected patience. “But we know that people can come back from the dead---the fact that the Lazarus Pit can bring people back even years later and they remember who they are, that’s proof that people have souls! It can't be that hard to believe some of them stick around after people die. All the sightings, all the EVPs---don’t tell me you’ve never been to McKinney farm!”

“McKinney farm?” Kon asked, feeling just as lost as before. 

“You’ve been to McKinney’s?” Stacy asked, jaw dropped, chin almost hitting her chest. “That’s so dangerous!”

“My mom would never let me go there,” another girl agreed. 

“McKinney farm?” Kon repeated. 

Tim sort of quirked his head to the side. “I keep forgetting that you’re also new here, Conner. McKinney’s is this… really broken down farm where a bunch of people died.”

“Really brutally chopped up,” Stacy added, excitedly. “I can’t believe you went there!”

“In eighth grade, whenever we played truth or dare, someone would always be dared to go to McKinney’s, but I’m pretty sure no one ever went.”

“That place gives me the creeps!” 

“Yeah,” Tim said. “It’s pretty creepy, but I’m hoping to get proof of ghosts, so I go there every now and again with a camera to try to catch one on tape.”

“You’ve been there more than once?” Stacy squealed. “I can’t imagine. The last person I heard who went there disappeared.”

“He was definitely murdered, Stace,” her friend said. 

“I heard that supervillains use it as a lair because they know everyone’s too afraid to go there.”

Supervillains? Kon’s ears perked up with interest. 

“I didn’t find any evidence of an evil lair,” Tim said. “I’m still going through my footage, though.”

“What’s this I hear about the McKinney farm?” Ms. Applebaum said, apparating to loom over them the way she always did. If Kon believed in ghosts, she would be his first suspect. She moved absolutely noiselessly. “You kids better not be going there. It’s been condemned.”

“Absolutely not, Ms. Applebaum,” Tim assured her smoothly, slinging his backpack up onto his shoulder. “We’re good kids. We wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I just don’t want any of you getting hurt. I know some of those old buildings have floors that aren’t safe---sometimes people fall right through.”

“Of course not,” all of them said in unison.

“We have a few minutes left. I want you all to use that time to think critically about your futures, alright?”

They agreed. Ms. Applebaum gave them all a tight-lipped smile before going back up to the front of the room. 

Kon stared at his blank list. 

The bell rang. 

It was the end of the day and he hadn’t even written a single college name down. 

He sighed and pulled his backpack onto his back and made his way out the door. 

“Hey!” he yelled, jogging up to Tim who was a few steps ahead of him. “Tim!”

“Hi, Conner.” 

“I forgot to ask you---can we be lab partners for that Forensics project?” Kon wasn’t much of a strategist---he left that to the other members of his team, notably Robin---but this was a strategic move. Tim was smart---guaranteed A---but more importantly basically the only person in his class who didn’t bore him to tears. 

Tim squinted. “The Soil Lab?” 

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, sure,” Tim said. “But I’m not carrying you. You have to pull your own weight on this, Conner.”

“Of course, man!” Kon said, and it was true. He was taking Forensic Science---partly because it was the only interesting elective class Smallville High offered other than Cooking (which Kon had already taken last semester). But also partly because Robin told him it might be useful for him to have a basic understanding of forensics for superhero work, and Bart had also told him that the Flash was a forensic criminologist (or something like that). 

So, yeah, Kon would pull his weight. 

He liked using his powers to look at the DNA of the blood samples they were identifying in class when everybody was looking away, too. Not that he had much of an idea of what it meant, but he was able to match Sample X with Person 1 without much difficulty just because their DNA just kinda looked the same. 

(Of course, Ms. Riley had not considered ‘the blood looks the same’ as a good explanation in the lab report, but shows what she knows.)

“When have I not pulled my weight?” he asked. 

Tim gave him a look. “I’m sure you remember the Emily Dickinson partner work---”

“That’s English,” Kon argued. “Doesn’t count.” 

“Uh-huh,” said Tim, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, I’ll be your partner.”

“That’s great, ghost boy.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Okay, come on, you can’t tell me you don’t have any weird hobbies.”

Kon thought about how he spent his time. Superhero stuff, TV, using his powers, spending time with friends. “Nah,” he said. “I’m pretty normal.”

“I have a hard time believing that you are normal,” Tim said, a slight blush on his cheeks. “You’re like the only one here who---well, whatever.”

Conner grinned. “Was that a compliment, ghost boy?” 

“Oh my god, Conner, it’s not that weird---plenty of people believe in ghosts!”

They walked out the doors of the school together, they continued bickering until they parted ways, Conner going up to the Kent Farm, smiling to himself. 

Huh. He’d never have thought that Tim believed in ghosts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> This author replies to comments.



	2. The Dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kon asks Ma a few questions about Smallville, and then they go to the county fair.

“Hey, Ma,” Kon said. “Have you heard of McKinney Farm?”

“You better not be going to McKinney Farm, Conner,” Ma replied without missing a beat as she put the casserole in the oven. 

"I didn't say I was!" Kon complained. "But why?"

"It's trespassing, for one thing," Ma said. "And I don't want you giving any ideas to any of those kids at your school. _You_ might be invulnerable, but _they_ aren't."

“Because they could fall through the floorboards?” Kon asked, remembering Ms. Applebaum’s concerns. 

“Yes,” said Ma. “The floorboards are probably rotten, who knows what kind of dangerous stuff could be lying around---”

“And the murders,” added Pa. 

“---and the murders!” Ma agreed. 

“Okay,” said Kon. “That. Everyone keeps mentioning the murders. What happened?”

Ma’s face stiffened. “It’s a long and sad story, Conner,” she said, lips pinched together. 

Kon thought that might have been obvious. Stories involving murder weren’t exactly sunshine and rainbows. “So you won’t tell me?” he asked, watching Ma take a wet cloth to the counter to swipe up some wayward ingredients that hadn’t made it into the casserole. 

Ma sighed. “I just want you to stay away from there, Conner.”

“Then you have to tell me why.”

Pa made a frustrated noise, and Ma looked up like she was asking the heavens for guidance. For a moment none of them spoke and Ma shook the crumbs from the rag into the trash before bringing it under running water.

Kon watched her put the rag to dry and pull a chair out to sit at the kitchen table across from him. 

“When I was a little girl,” she started. “There was this older girl who I really looked up to. We used to walk to school together,” she said, softly. “Her name was Mary Anne.”

Kon nodded, not sure where this was going. Had Ma just decided to share a story about her childhood to distract him or was this related to the McKinney Farm?

Pa coughed. 

“Your Pa didn’t like Mary Anne much,” Ma said. 

“Still don’t,” said Pa. 

“Regardless of any personal feelings towards her,” Ma continued, sending Pa a sharp look. “She was the prettiest girl in town. Mary Anne McKinney.”

Okay, so this _was_ about the McKinney Farm then. 

Ma took a breath and continued. “She was so nice---she used to play with some of the younger girls at recess. Hopscotch and jump rope. She was the best out of all of us.”

Pa sighed. He sounded bored of the story already. “Turns out I was right about her after all,” he said, interrupting. “When she snapped and murdered her three brothers.”

Ma gave an inhale and shook her head. “That’s not what happened!”

Kon watched, wide-eyed. He’d never seen Ma and Pa Kent fight about anything before. They always seemed to be on the same page. Right now, they were on pretty different pages, maybe even different libraries. 

“Tell that to the Sheriff,” Pa said mildly, standing up in a way that had this chair scrape against the floor. “I’ll see to the chickens.”

“So you were friends with her?” Kon asked, once Pa was out of range.

“I never believed she killed anyone,” Ma said, looking down. “But they arrested her, of course. Right after she was sentenced to life in prison, she---well, they found her, and she didn’t make it. They thought it was out of guilt, but I thought something different.”

“How old were you?” Kon asked, disturbed. 

“Twelve years old, if I remember right. I was in the fifth grade.”

“So why don’t you believe she did it?” 

“Well,” Ma said, slowly. “Her parents died, not long after---the same way her siblings died.”

“Butchered,” Kon remembered. 

“Don’t say it like that, Conner. It was a tragedy.” Ma cleared her throat. “I don’t want you down there. The house has been condemned for years---since I was a little girl. Anyone who tried to live there---something really bad always happens to them.”

“Like what?” Kon asked, leaning forward, still morbidly curious. 

Ma shook her head. “That’s enough for now, Conner.” She tried to give him a smile, although Kon could tell it was wobbly. “The pie should be done cooling off by now. Could you bring it in?”

Kon used his superspeed to fetch the pie cooling on the porch to put it in front of Ma on the table. 

“Alright,” she said. “Let’s see if my recipe needs adjustment before the pie contest next week.”

They dug in. 

“You’ve got this one in the bag, Ma,” Kon said, mouth full of Dutch apple pie. 

“You think so?” Ma asked. 

“Oh yeah,” said Kon. “Blue ribbon for sure.”

The day of the county fair, Kon was helping Ma transport everything she needed for her booth from the truck when he saw Tim. 

"Anythin’ else, Ma?” Kon asked, two foldable beach chairs in hand, eyes on Tim, who was walking alone with his hands in his pockets into the fair. 

Ma made a thoughtful look, but shook her head. “No, that’s all. Make sure to unfold those chairs at the booth before running off, you know Pa hurt his back the last time he tried to do it.” 

Kon agreed and sped off to walk in step with Tim, beach chairs bracketing his body. “Hiya, Tim!”

Tim looked up. “Hey, Conner. I didn’t know you’d be here today.”

“Yeah,” Kon said, gesturing to the chairs he was holding. “I’m helping Ma set up her booth. What about you? What are you doing here, ghost boy?”

Tim groaned. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope,” said Kon, popping the ‘p’. 

Tim rolled his eyes. “Okay, first of all, if you actually listen to the evidence---” Tim dodged a fast-moving cotton candy cart and continued. “I bet you’ve never even been anywhere haunted!”

Kon had not, because nowhere was haunted. Ghosts were not real, as he told Tim very matter of factly. 

“Okay,” said Tim. “I bet you wouldn’t last ten minutes at Red Bridge.”

Red Bridge was a creepy location in Smallville that Kon _had_ actually heard of. It was a dark, roofed, tunnel-like bridge that was unjustifiably long considering it was built over a trickling creek. He knew, from listening to all of those proud sophomores who just got their license, that everyone and their mother would rather kill their dog than drive over Red Bridge at night. 

He _also_ knew that it doubled as Smallville’s kissing bridge and had assumed until now that those two facts were connected. 

“Red Bridge is haunted?” he asked.

Tim gave him a look. “Obviously. You haven’t heard about it?”

“No, I have,” Kon said, which was false. “People tell me things… all the time. Lots of gossip.” They do not. Kon was not particularly popular at Smallville High School despite being, dare he say it, one of the most attractive students there. Girls _did_ go out of their way to date him, of course (because who wouldn’t, once they’d seen him?). But superhero-ing and weekend football practice occupied the same time slot and Kon, having grown up in a test tube, had a limited understanding of pop culture references and, really, it had all boiled down to Kon not really finding a close-knit group of friends.

Plus, they so rarely had anything interesting to say that Kon mainly tuned out their bland chatter in favor of circumventing the schools’ ‘no headphones in class’ rule by tuning his super hearing into a local AM radio station. 

“Uh-huh,” said Tim, in a way that made it clear that he didn’t believe him. “Well, whether you’ve heard of it before or not, I dare you to go there tonight and carve your initials on the bridge as proof.”

Kon knew he was not very good at ignoring dares, a fact which frequently annoyed the others on the team when they were working with a villain who was goading him. He’d always take the dare and go at it alone, overconfident. _Well_ , Kon thought, _not this time!_

“Fine!” Kon said, a challenge in his voice. “Only if you come, too!” 

Tim had a strange expression on his face.

“I need to make sure that you don’t dress up in a white sheet and pretend to be a ghost as ‘proof’,” Kon said, using air quotes. A pause, as they arrived at the booth and Kon began unfolding the beach chairs---something he’d never had trouble with because of his TTK. He turned to look up at Tim. “What? You scared, ghost boy?”

Tim scowled. “Of course not. I’ll be there! I’ll even carve my initials right next to yours, if you get that far!”

Kon was pretty sure that carving initials next to each other on the bridge was something that couples did, but he didn’t bring that up, feeling pleased that he’d managed to turn that around. 

At that moment, someone with a microphone called for Tim Drake to come to the stage to help with the sound system. 

“That’s what you’re here for?” Kon asked, laughing. He knew Tim was good at technology, and he also couldn’t really see Tim coming to the county fair just for fun, but what seemed the most out of character was Tim helping out with the sound system for what Kon could only describe as the worst band in the world, no matter how well they paid him. They played heavy metal crossed with Disney Kids Bop, for God’s sake!

(The story of how Kon knew this band could unfortunately also be connected to his list of Things That Made Clark Weird, subsection 17: Smallville ‘Music’. The quotes were important because Kon would not consider it music, himself, but Clark clearly did. 

This particular band, according to his notes, had been around since Clark had been a little kid and practiced in their neighbor’s barn at ungodly hours. Kon was pretty sure younger Clark had been brainwashed with some kind of subliminal messaging because---worst of all---Clark actually _liked_ the sound of their music.)

“Well,” Tim said, mildly. “Someone has to turn off the speakers when they can’t hit the high notes.” 

“They can’t hit _any_ of the notes,” Kon argued. 

“Why do you think you can’t hear them now?” Tim said. “I’m stalling until the end of their time slot to fix the speakers.”

Kon _could_ , in fact, hear them right now as they tried their hand at an acoustic screamo duet from Frozen. However, he pretended to be grateful in an attempt to fit in with the humans and also because it wasn’t really _Tim’s_ fault that the Kon’s hearing was so unfortunately good. 

“Anyway,” Tim continued. “I have to go pretend like I’m fixing the speakers for half an hour.”

“Don’t accidentally fix them for real,” Kon warned him. 

“I’m pretty sure that’d be an act of terror,” Tim agreed. “Would definitely put my on the Justice League’s radar.”

“Don’t worry about _them_ ,” Kon told him. “If you did that, the only hero you’d have to worry about is _me_!”

Tim laughed. “If you foiled my supervillain plans, I’d definitely haunt you.”

“I wouldn’t kill you!” Kon was sure he looked wounded. “I’d make you listen to one of their albums on repeat for the rest of your life.”

“Oh,” said Tim, raising his eyebrows. “You have this planned out, huh? Consider this: maybe I _like_ their music.”

 _Oh, God,_ thought Kon, _tell me I don’t have another Clark on my hands._

“Do you?”

Tim flushed. “Well, no, not really,” he admitted. 

The loudspeaker sounded again with another call for Tim Drake to help out at the stage. 

“I’d better go,” Tim said with a sigh. 

“See you later, ghost boy,” Kon called as Tim began to walk away. 

“You too, unbeliever!” Tim yelled back. 

Ma won the blue ribbon for the pie competition again this year and they managed to sell a lot of homemade jam from her booth. Kon did spend some time contemplating that Tim _was_ right about one thing: Smallville _did_ have a lot of supposedly haunted locations---two like Red Bridge and the McKinney Farm was a fair amount for such a small town. 

(Kon was _pretty sure_ that this was somehow relevant information for his List of Things That Made Clark Weird, although he wasn’t sure which subsection they would go in yet.)

Tim did come back a few times throughout the fair, once to buy some of Ma Kent’s goodies and speak with the Kents very politely and once to remind Kon about their plans tonight---using some ambiguous phrasing that had Ma Kent raising her eyebrows. The second time, Kon followed Tim to get some lunch, if only to avoid any questions Ma would come up with as soon as Tim left. 

They shared a side of cheesy fries on a picnic table in the blazing sun as Tim continually tried offering Kon (an alien who gets his energy from the sun) some of his sunscreen lotion. 

“Skin cancer’s not a joke, you know,” Tim said the way a bad child actor would in a health class PSA. 

“I know,” said Kon, shoveling cheesy fries into his mouth. “I just never burn.” 

“You don’t have to burn to get skin cancer,” Tim countered, but Kon had trouble taking him seriously with the white lotion so clearly visible and not rubbed in on the tip of his nose. 

They finished the cheesy fries, Tim somehow winning their battle to get the last one. (He had strangely quick reflexes, Kon noticed.)

Tim offered Kon a sip from his drink. 

“What is it?” 

“Orange soda.” Tim swished it around the yellow plastic cup like a glass of whine.

“Never mind,” said Kon, scrunching his nose. “I’ll stay dehydrated.”

“Suit yourself.” Tim brought the purple swirly straw to his mouth and finished it off with a satisfying slurp. 

“You look like a ghost,” Kon told him. 

“Did I miss some?” Tim asked, bringing his hands to hover around his face. 

“No, wait,” Kon told him, wiping his hands on his napkin and leaning over the table to use his fingers to spread the excess across Tim’s face. “All better, ghost boy,” he said, softly, thumb under Tim’s eye and palm cupping his cheek. 

Tim’s face went red. Kon was pretty sure it wasn’t a sunburn. 

“Thanks.”

Kon sat back down on his side of the table and they pointedly didn’t discuss that until sundown. They try all the rides and games that they fit the height restriction for (there were a few they were too tall for, to Kon’s chagrin), and Kon even used his TTK to win Tim a Superboy plushie at the rigged claw machine. 

(When it’s his turn, Tim hacks the machine using a code he memorized and the claw arm reached in to present them with a Wonder Woman plushie. 

Tim put it firmly in Kon’s hands and said, “You better take care of her---she’s my favorite.”

Kon tried not to feel hurt by that. 

Still, seeing Tim hold to mini-Superboy tightly as they go through the hall of distorted mirrors was able to make him feel a little better about it.)

“I always think these things are going to break,” Tim said, eyeing the protective bar distrustfully when they get on the Ferris wheel.

When they get stuck at the top for ten minutes, Tim smirks smugly as though he’d predicted the second coming of Christ to the millisecond, but becomes increasingly agitated as each minute passes.

Kon wasn’t worried.

It became dark and Kon had to help Ma load up the truck with everything again as everyone was getting in their cars and going home. 

“Coming, Conner?” Ma asked him, eyes flickering over to where Tim stood a little bit to the left of the car, waiting. 

“Uh,” said Kon, who had not asked if it was okay, but who also was a superhero and probably shouldn’t need to. 

Tim took over. “Ms. Kent, is it alright if Conner and I hung out a bit tonight?”

“It’s not a school night or anything,” Kon added. 

“I know, dear, it’s Saturday,” Ma said. “I suppose it’s fine, just don’t come back too late and wake Pa up in the middle of the night, you hear? And Tim, you know you can call me ‘Ma’, right?”

“Of course,” he assured her, smiling sweetly. 

Kon squinted his eyes at how Tim behaved so differently---like an angel---around any parents. But Ma bought it and drove off. 

“Alright,” said Tim, “ready to go, unbeliever?”

Kon grinned. “Always, ghost boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> This author replies to comments.



	3. Chapter 3

“So, who are you working with on the Econ project?” Kon asked as they drove down the dark dirt road, by now far enough away from the fairground that there were no other cars around them. 

Tim gave him a disgusted look. “You want to talk about school?”

Kon did not want to talk about school. He had ulterior motives---a concept he was used to connecting to Lex Luthor and other supervillains and was just barely getting comfortable using for himself. 

“Hey, I’m sorry, bro,” Kon laughed. “I have to get started early on finding a partner because everybody knows each other so well, it’s kind of annoying.”

“Well, yeah,” said Tim. “It  _ does _ get annoying when everyone assumes you know everyone they’re talking about.”

“Oh, yeah,” Kon remembered. “You’re from Gotham.”

“I am very offended that you would even think for a second that I grew up here, Conner,” Tim said primly, making a sharp left. 

Kon made a covert attempt to steady the car using his TTK. 

Tim had… interesting driving habits, to say the least. 

“Worse,” Tim continued, “is the implication that you have asked multiple people to work with you. I thought  _ I _ was your first choice!”

“You are!” Kon assured him. “You absolutely are!”

He couldn’t exactly tell from the look on Tim’s face if he’s fake insulted or real insulted. “I just wanted to give you the impression that you had a choice?” he tried. 

Tim rolled his eyes and pulled the truck over. 

Kon gave their scenery a cursory look. Dark, corn, some kind of frightened animal scurrying. “Am I supposed to see something?” he asked. 

Tim leaned over him, reaching to open the glove compartment. He was warm where he was touching Kon, even through his shirt. He took out a long metal cylinder: a flashlight. 

“This isn’t the bridge,” Kon prompted. 

“So, you have eyes,” said Tim, putting a second flashlight in Kon’s palm. Kon’s fingers instinctively close around it, Tim’s hand included. “We’re going to sneak up on them,” he said. 

“What?” Kon asked, incredulous. “How do you sneak up on a ghost?”

“Well,” said Tim, grabbing a duffel bag and opening the driver’s side door right into a bunch of human-sized corn. “The best part about this bridge is that it’s not only haunted---there have been a bunch of alien sightings here, too.”

“A two for one special,” Kon suggested. 

“Exactly!”

“Wait,” said Kon, and Tim did, halfway down from the truck. "Okay, what about aliens?" Kon asked, when he could finally get the question right on his tongue. 

Tim gave him a look. "What about aliens?"

"You think they're real? Crop circles, abduction, probing, Area 51, the whole shebang?"

"Mr. Gunderson actually had a crop circle, Conner!"

“That was for the kids,” Kon objected. “He did that with his tractor.”

“Okay,” said Tim, leaning forward animatedly. “If it was his tractor, explain the lack of tire tracks in the fields!”

“I don’t know, maybe he used a lawnmower?”

“You think Mr. Gunderson  _ carried _ his lawnmower out into the middle of his field to make a fake crop circle, Conner? He’s an octogenarian, for God’s sake!”

Kon suddenly remembered this was not a thing that humans could typically do. 

“Well,” he said, definitively. “I don’t know how, but it was definitely fake.  _ Not aliens.”  _

And, honestly, Kon was pretty sure he wasn’t even lying about that. None of the aliens  _ he _ knew had any interest in stealing geometrical portions of anyone’s corn. Plus, as he understood it, there were already too many people growing corn for ethanol or feed and so it wasn’t like it was likely to be part of a long term alien profit plan---at least not any that Kon would understand. 

“We’ll see,” said Tim, finally getting out of the truck. He took a step and looked over his shoulder. “You coming?”

Kon swung the passenger side door open. “Yep.”

“Okay,” Kon said, finally, to distract himself. “What’s with the camera?” He gestured at the high quality black camera hanging from Tim’s neck. 

“Oh,” said Tim, looking down. “Just want to make sure I can get proof when we do find something. For my blog,” he admitted. 

This was one moment in which Kon is glad for his enhanced senses. If he didn’t have them, he’d miss out on Tim’s blush in the dark. 

“You’re such a nerd,” Kon said fondly, bumping their shoulders together. 

“I bet I do more sports than you do, you fake jock,” Tim shot back. 

Which… yes, was probably true, unless you counted supervillain fighting to be a sport. 

“Look,” said Kon. “Smallville doesn’t exactly have a wide range of options on that front.”

Tim laughed. “You’re not wrong.” 

As they walked along the dirt road together, Kon was glad for the relatively warm October night air. It’s not that he was  _ cold _ , per se, it was just that… well, Kon understood why people might think it was haunted around here. 

Kon could agree that this place was objectively spookier at night. Kon had pretty decent night vision, if he did say so himself, so he knew there weren’t any, like,  _ murderers _ around, but there was something objectively weird about the night time animals around here. 

“Those eyes are definitely glowing,” Kon said, eyeing the corn suspiciously and pressing closer to Tim. 

“Don’t be such a wimp, Conner,” Tim said, shrugging him off. “They’re always there, just ignore them.”

“What are they?” Kon asked. 

“You know,” said Tim. “Those animals. They always walk there.”

Kon squinted at him. 

“It’s worse when the crops rotate,” Tim told him. “You see how  _ many _ there are on soy years.” 

  
  


After some thought, Kon decided that Tim must be joking. When something rustled behind them, Kon used his X-ray vision to scan the corn stalks to either side of them.  _ It’s nothing… just rows and rows of corn. _

Unsettled, Kon pressed a little bit closer to Tim. He was pretty sure something blinked at him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An explanation: I know this chapter is pretty short... I've been trying to work the ending of this chapter for a while now (and I basically stopped writing most fic until after finals were over), but I finally decided to just put the first 1000 words of what I have so far for chapter 3. For some reason it is incredibly hard for me to write the "in-between" sections that connect everything I've already written. 
> 
> Comments welcome! Thanks so much for being patient with me! <3


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